Jayne Dies At The End
by Dogmattic
Summary: Starring a sexually repressed Lone Wanderer, a Chaotic Good cannibal that probably has Syphilis, an oddly charismatic mute Neutral bastard and the cattiest witch from Vault 101 that the Wasteland has ever seen.  It's gonna be a long Post-Apocalypse.
1. Intense Training

And now for something completely different. Also known as "Dogma writes a story that has nothing to do with Team Fortress 2."

Prologue: In which the Ex-Lone Wanderer contemplates death from a closet, and generally curses a lot.

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><p>"Fucking, fuck, shit!" The man cursed, holding his injured arm to his chest as he tried to catch his breath. He crouched on the dank floor of a utility closet in some nameless fleshed-out building, recuperating in the stillness of the moment. Honestly he hadn't expected them all at once—countless numbers of muties had poured into the double doors of the entrance, pushing him back further and further and draining his supplies so rapidly that he'd been forced to retreat and hide in this fucking hole. There were not enough expletives in all of the Capitol Wasteland to express how pissed he was right now. To make matters worse, his left arm was crippled and he was fairly sure that Dogmeat was dead. He'd told the dog to run, to escape and flee to the Vault, but he couldn't be sure if his canine companion even got out of the building alive. His arm stung, reminding him of his own current plight. Experimentally, Jayne tried to flex his left arm, and hissed as pain shot straight through it like lightening. Shrapnel from a stray frag grenade had lodged itself all throughout his arm, severing muscles and cracking bone where it dug deep enough.<p>

The thing looked worse than ground Brahmin meet.

"Four Stimpacks left. Not good," Jayne mused to no one in particular. He would need every one of them just to get out of this place alive, and he debated whether or not to use one to heal his crippled arm, or simply leave the thing to flop uselessly and save the Stimpacks for when he was closer to death. He would not have brought so few if he'd known this place was such a mutant hotspot. He damned himself for being so careless and picked a few pieces of lead out of his arm. Ultimately he decided it would probably be more beneficial to have the use of his arm, and grit his teeth as he injected said arm with one of the Stimpacks. Immediately the shrapnel was forced from his arm, and he watched with little interest as the skin knit itself back together and re-formed unblemished, as if there had never been an injury at all. Though he wasn't sure of the exact inner workings of Stimpacks, Jayne was acutely familiar of their effects; He'd used more than his fair share. However, despite the number of times he made use of the small medical devices, the sting of the injection never dulled. And the healing process never changed.

Now that his arm had ceased throbbing so badly, Jayne considered his prospects. He had three frag grenades left, and his ammunition supply was low for all weapons save for his Laser Pistol, which had a surplus of power cells available. Unfortunately, the pistol was next to useless against Super Mutants, and it was also damaged so severely that continuing to fire it could cause it to backfire. His shotgun had twelve bullets left, his sniper rifle was out of ammo, his .44 Magnum was broken and his only other functioning weapon was a crowbar. In this scenario, sneaking past them would be his next option of choice, but his Chinese Stealth Armor was busted, flickering in and out whenever he activated the cloaking mechanism. As if that wasn't enough, he was also out of Stealth Boys. Just fucking dandy.

Ignoring his injured body and morale, Jayne stood and peered around the dark closet that he'd holed up in for the time being. There were a few odds and ends, some things Crazy Wolfgang might like to get his hands on, but no ammunition boxes or medical supply kits. He sighed and cursed his bad luck, then crouched back down to think. This building was a labyrinth in itself. Sneaking out on his own would be impossible given the number of muties that stormed in after him. They were everywhere; his Pipboy was flashing red tick marks all around him in warning. Above, below, in front, behind, Super Mutants! He sat back on his haunches and tried to think.

Usually this kind of thing was a breeze! Get in, scavenge for valuables, get out. That had been his life for a number of years now. After the whole Project Purity escapade, the 'Lone Wanderer' had simply dropped off the grid, and that was how he liked it. He liked to scavenge, to be alone, to search ruins and sell things, and he'd made a pretty good life doing it, too. It was easy for someone as skilled as him. He was usually fine on his own.

Scavving was _usually_ no problem.

It was_ usually_ a walk in the park.

It _usually_ didn't involve a shit-ton of fucking Super Mutant Overlords and their cronies swarming the damn building as he was on his way out!

"Fuck!" Jayne swore again, but the curse died on his lips as he heard movement outside. Slow, heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway, accompanied by the sound of a gun cocking. He froze, not even daring to breathe. The footsteps paused outside his door, only briefly, but then continued down the corridor, apparently writing his expletive off as another imaginary noise. Jayne exhaled slowly, quietly. He did not want to die here. He _would not _die here. Gathering the few supplies he had, while simultaneously gathering his courage, Jayne set his mind on the idea of getting out. That's all he wanted. To get out.

Resolved to do just that, the battle-worn man cracked the door of his closet open. A Brute was standing at the end of the hallway, it's grotesque, mangled green back turned to him, and from the sound of things this was the only mutie in this area. Moving as quickly as he dared while trying to remain undetected, Jayne crept behind the monster, his nimble fingers making short work of the pockets on the thing's pants, and planted a live grenade there. The big ugly screamed as Jayne backpedalled, then exploded, its burly legs ripped clean off at the hip and the rank blood flying all over the floor and walls. Jayne looted the corpse quickly, then left the area before another of the fuckers decided to come investigate the noise.

He fled down the corridor, hanging a left at a corner that he knew would lead to the stairs, but stopped short as another Brute loomed in front of him. "Shit!" Jayne dodged a sledgehammer aimed for his head as the thing roared. He quickly drew his shotgun, took two shots at its head and watched it hit the ground, a sack of dead, slate-green meat. Now there were more, screaming and streaming into the corridors; he could hear them homing in on his position. Every second counted now. Not bothering to search the new corpse, Jayne made a break for the stairs, dodging around a corner and meeting another mutie head on. He took a blow to the side, sure that he heard a rib crack, but simply grit his teeth and smacked the fucker as hard as he could in the side of the head with his crowbar. It went down, but didn't die. Jayne ran.

Second floor, he could do this. Mutants were everywhere, bullets were flying, and Jayne was vaguely aware that his left arm was suffering again, but his mentality remained clear; Get the fuck out of dodge. He kept running, banking around corners as if the devil himself was on his heels, trying to keep his head low and away from the bullets. His combat armor was torn up, bullets were starting to pierce the thinner areas, but that didn't matter right now. As much as it pained him to run from a fight, that was all that could be done. He hopped a small couch and ducked as bullets from a Minigun went flying over his head, then continued towards the stairwell at the opposite end of this floor. The door came into view, he could see it, but of course his luck didn't hold.

A lumbering giant, an Overlord, smashed through the door, roaring and taking aim at him, Minigun already whirring. Jayne panicked and took a hallway to his right, deviating from the path to freedom in an act of instinctual self-preservation. He quickly realized his error, however, and a sinking feeling developed in the pit of his stomach as the dead end came into view.

He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, much like the first time he ever laid eyes on a mutant, so many years ago as a terrified boy in the underbelly of a broken city. No, he was not going to die today. Not after everything he'd been through. The mutie hoard was about to round the corner, and he was stuck in a dead-end situation on the second floor of a building. Pure, wild, survivor instinct took over then, and Jayne did what said instinct deemed logical: 

He jumped out of the fucking window.

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><p>FANFICTION, Y U NO FORMAT? rage


	2. Cannibal

Chapter One: In which the Not-So-Lone-Anymore Wanderer meets the Psycho Punch-Happy Cannibal, and general chaos ensues.

When Jayne came to, it was to the sound of an intense moist cracking sound. The only thing that he could compare it to would be the crunch of Brahmin meat as you stripped it from the bone, only this was more juicy and wet-sounding. Jayne lifted himself up onto his forearms, and immediately regretted it as a thick, severe pain ran up the length of his spine, forcing him back to the ground. Though it was mildly concerning that he couldn't seem to move the lower half of his body, the more concerning fact was that damned cracking sound. It wouldn't have bothered him under normal circumstances, but it was quite close to him, and that in itself was bothersome. He tried to think back to why he might be on the ground in the first place, but couldn't really recall. The last thing he could bring to mind was fear, adrenaline, super mutants and… flying? There was definitely flying involved.

Flying and a sick crunching noise. What the fuck was that, anyways?

"Hey, could you keep it down over there?" Jayne yelled out to the noise, his vision still swimming with lovely twirly things and shades of grey.

"Oh, well _excuse _me, friend. So sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep after I saved yer damn life," Responded the crunching noise. Only it wasn't a crunching noise. That had stopped. Now it was an intensely nasally, awkward speech. Huh. Jayne shifted his head a little, peering over to pinpoint the source of the voice. His vision swam some more, but gradually cleared, and to say that the incapacitated man was not prepared for the sight that met his eyes would be a tremendous understatement. There was a chap sitting there, casually chewing on a finger—a _human _finger—atop a pile of super mutant corpses. His brownish, wild hair was streaked with blood in places, and he gave off the distinct impression of mild, if not severe…complete and utter insanity. It was probably the eyes. Freakin' crazy looking eyes. Jayne stopped. He closed his eyes, and rolled his head back around to face the sky.

"You're not real. You're just some crazy hallucination that this near-death experience has conjured up from my brain. Please go away," He sighed. Something similar to this had happened a few times before, after all. Like that one time that he'd gotten addicted to Mentats and suffered from the withdrawal effects—holy crap, now _that_ was some crazy shit. Grandmothers attacking him with frying pans, singing dancing Deathclaws, Yaoi Guai with top hats that spoke in pig Latin… a pain-induced hallucination of some random dude was nothing compared to that.

"'Sat so? Well dang, and here I thought I wasn't special. I'm a hallucination! Now what exactly is that?" The smaller man cocked his head at the poor bastard on the ground, calmly nibbling away at his finger food. "I mean, I been called lots of stuff before, but that ain't exactly a word that gets tossed around so often." He grinned down at the man who was pointedly ignoring him. Jayne sighed again, a world-weary exhale of carbon dioxide and radiation, and rolled his eyes skyward.

"A hallucination is- no, you know what, I'm not going to explain it to you. As soon as I feel better you'll disappear."

"That ain't real nice to say. I won't just leave you in the dirt, man. I mean, I could have just finished you off and gotten a few more snacks by now if I'd wanted to," The strange man waved his finger, now chewed down to a mere bone, before tossing the thing away.

Jayne found it rather odd that this particular hallucination was speaking to him. Usually they just flailed around or waivered in and out of his vision, but this one seemed intent on plaguing him with idle chatter. Perhaps he'd finally lost his mind. Well, what little was left of it in the first place.

He opened his eyes and glanced over to the man again, who simply smiled down at him like an idiot, and he couldn't help but notice that this hallucination was not only extremely detailed, but also had sharp, slightly yellowed teeth, and was most likely not a hallucination at all. He sighed again. Honestly, if this guy was the real deal, he'd rather deal with an illusion.

"Alright. Say you're not a figment of my depraved, pain-riddled mind; I can't move my arms without hurting myself, I can't move my legs at all, and I'm pretty sure my spine is severed in more than a few places. What the fuck are you going to do with me?" Jayne gave the man an exasperated look. Laying there in the dirt, he actually kind of hoped that the man would kill him. At least that'd be better than lying here until a Yao Guai came along, or worse—more muties. His nose started to itch. Goddamnit.

"Hmm, good question," The slight man hopped down from his throne of corpses and pressed his face close to Jayne's. His breath was rank, and that was about all Jayne could think in the way of general cognition. "I could still eat ya, but that wouldn't be right sein' as how you survived that fall. By the way that was freakin' awesome! You jumped that window like a bat outta hell, man! Best damn show I ever got heading into a building." The man grinned, still uncomfortably close to his face, and Jayne could feel the bile rising in his throat. Holy shit, that breath. It was like a mangy molerat having sex with a rotting Brahmin corpse. "Name's Dian, by the way. That's D-I-A-N, Die-Anne!"

The stranger sat back on his heels and tapped his jaw with a dirty forefinger. "Hey, how about a Stimpack bro, you don't look so good," He pulled out three of the small injectors and jabbed each into Jayne's thigh. A fast burn seeped into Jayne's muscles, but then the pain dissipated and he was left with a mere dull ache. He sat up and roughly shoved the other man away, then scratched his nose. Good lord that felt good. After engaging in this mindless self-indulgence for a moment, he directed his attention to the man-that-was-not-imaginary. The guy looked kinda Hispanic, if a little pale. Interesting face, skinny build, crazy eyes. Yeah…he preferred it when the man was imaginary.

"Dian," He said lamely.

"Yes?" A wide grin.

"As much as I appreciate the help and all… I'm gonna go now," He stood and dusted himself off, then searched his person to see if anything was missing. "Hey! Where the hell are my Stimpacks?" He glared back at the thin man, who simply shrugged and pointed to the used cartridges that he'd injected into Jayne. Jayne growled and rolled his eyes. Admittedly, he'd been hoping that this dude was just very generous and had used his own Stimpacks, but of course, this was the wasteland, and things didn't work like that.

"Nevermind. Okay, er, bye," He backed slowly away from Dian, and headed off towards Big Town. It was the closest settlement to his current location, and what they lacked in resources of any kind, they made up for with free medical care. The Stimpacks had done wonders for his back and arms, but he wasn't feeling at all top-notch yet, and he had a limp.

Jayne hadn't gone far when he realized the strange man was following him. He glanced over his shoulder at said man, who was calmly gnawing on another severed finger, and gave an involuntary shiver. He whirled on the man, striding up to him with as much intimidation as he could muster with a limp.

"Look, again, I appreciate the help and everything, but I'm going away now, _alone_. I don't particularly like company, and honestly, you creep me the fuck out. Now why don't you go on and get out of here before you start to piss me off." Rudeness was not something that Jayne relied too heavily upon in normal situations, but it occurred to him at one point that you really couldn't be nice to _everyone_. Especially not creepy weirdoes like this guy. Or Dave. God, he didn't like Dave; the man was getting even more paranoid in his old age, had two wives and was still pumping out children like a sex machine. It was just plain disturbing.

Dian stared blankly up at him for a moment, then tilted his head and gave Jayne a scrutinizing look. He squinted his eyes and leaned in close to Jayne, who in turn leaned away, his hand automatically traveling to where his Shotgun was holstered. Then Dian laughed, hearty and good-natured, and fell back on his ass, sending up a plume of dust around the two men. He laughed for a good long while, confusing the hell out of his red-headed companion, and then wiped a merry tear away as he chewed some more on his snack.

"Well shit man, I was just gonna follow you to a town fer some supplies! But now I know yer such a crackerbox, I think I'll stick around!" He chuckled some more and flung his leftovers away, then stood and grinned at Jayne, brown eyes wide and filed teeth bared. It was unnerving, to say the least. Then the smile faded away, replaced by a look of utter, complete, devastating sadness, "Oh God please don't leave me alone," The smaller man whispered, his eyes going even bigger. "I could, uh, I could carry shit. Or something," He chuckled, and his eye twitched. Jayne took a step away, his expression a mix of suspicion and mild horror. Was this guy for real?

"Now that doesn't exactly work for me," Jayne started, trying to be more delicate now. The last thing he wanted to do was upset a fucking psycho cannibal. "See, I'm very used to being alone. As in, just me. Alone. Forever," He backed away a few more paces, eyeing the other man for any sign of rapid movement. Dian appeared to think about it, looked past him for a moment, shrugged, and meandered off back in the direction they'd come from, smiling. Jayne wondered at this sudden 180 degree turn in attitude and well, direction, but didn't think much of it. He watched the other man walk away for a minute, then turned around to continue on his way… and immediately regretted it.

Not fifty feet away stood a fucking Deathclaw. And Dian had seen it. Its blank eyes trained on him, and Jayne froze in place, pulled out his Shotgun, and took a step backwards. That fucking rat bastard had seen it, and didn't say a word. Jayne took another cautious step back.

The Deathclaw charged.

Jayne bolted.

"Dian! Fuck, Dian!" He sprinted after the sauntering man, leg protesting all the while. Dian looked back at him casually. He paused mid-step, standing stock still as an excited light came into his eyes, and began laughing like a maniac. He quickly reached into his small pack and pulled out three Bottlecap Mines, setting one and sprinting away, laughing, to set another not ten yards away. Jayne saw his plan and silently praised the man's ingenuity, but was quite distracted as a huge, clawed hand ripped past his hip. "Shit shit shit!" Jayne screamed a slew of expletives as his feet tore across the loose rubble and rock, making his way towards the first mine.

The moment before he was in the bomb's detonation range, he made a sharp left and rolled out of the way. The Deathclaw, slow to react, stepped directly on the thing, and the explosion seemed to shake the earth. Jayne stood again and kept sprinting, dodging the flails of the Deathclaw as it doggedly pursued him, one of its legs twisting at an awkward angle and spewing trails of blood across the ground. He pulled the same maneuver as the first time with the second bomb, rolling away again as the Deathclaw trod on the trap.

By now the creature was on its last legs, and Jayne nearly tripped over himself as Dian shot past him towards the beast. He turned in time to see the slight man beating the shit out of the thing with a Power Fist, and promptly faceplanted in the dirt.

"Aw, fucking, shit, damn," Habitual cursing really is a nasty habit, Jayne. He pushed himself away from the ground, feeling the sick, gritty feeling of blood and dirt in his mouth, and wondered why the hell he ended up on the ground so much lately. His nose was dripping blood all over the front of his armor, and his leg was acting up again, but none of these things bothered him quite as much as the sight that his new companion made.

Dian was alternating between screaming and laughing insanely loud, swinging away at the giant creature's maw with his Power Fist. Blood flew in gobs across his face, slicking his wild hair and absolutely ruining the front of his thin leather armor. It was definitely a sight to behold. Only thing was, Jayne couldn't really decide if it was stunningly magnificent or terrifying beyond all reason.

Probably a strange mixture of both.

When he'd finished, Dian drug the sleeve of his shirt against his face, only succeeding in smearing the red mess there, and grinned wider.

"Hell yeah! Punching Deathclaws makes a man feel ALIVE!" He knelt down, drew out a combat knife, and made short work of the dead creature's wrist, removing one of its massive hands and stowing it away in his pack. Jayne didn't question this. Honestly, he didn't even want to know.

Dian turned his grin towards the ginger, strode over, and thrust a bloodied hand towards the man on the ground. Jayne took it, albeit hesitantly, and allowed the dark haired man to help him up. He pulled a wad of fabric from his own pack and pressed it to his nose, then gave Dian a long, hard look. Finally he sighed, wiped at his nose one last time, and started to walk away. After a few steps he turned and gave his new companion a questioning look.

"Well, are you coming or not?" He grumbled.

The joy emanating from the other man was _tangible._


	3. Child At Heart

Chapter Two: In which the Hero is subjected to uncomfortable amounts of male bonding and the Cannibal talks a lot, about everything.

The two made it to Big Town as the sun was setting, and Jayne greeted Dusty at the gate with a smile. After a moment of recognition, the guy smiled back nervously and gave Dian a once-over for any sign of hostility before going back to obsessively scanning the horizon.

As dusk began to settle, Big Town also settled. A few citizens of the ratty little place were still up and about, mostly the night guards coming out to begin their shift, and a few said their hellos to Jayne as he made his way to Red's clinic. Jayne politely greeted each and every one of them, noting with a slight smile how much the small town had flourished in the past few years. The night guard had increased twofold and the town was much more secure in itself. Children now peeked from the windows of tattered buildings, and for the first time in its existence, Big Town felt more like a community than a death sentence. It was definitely a far step above the sorry state the town was in on his initial trip here.

"'Ey, Jayney-boy," Dian nudged his shoulder, looking behind him with a paranoid gleam in his eye. Jayne shrugged him off and growled lowly.

"Don't ever call me that again. What is it?"

"How come all these guys are so nice ta you? Nobody's ever that nice; it ain't natural," He got close to whisper conspiratorially in Jayne's ear.

"I don't know," Jayne responded curtly, taking a long stride to put distance between himself and his insufferable follower. "Folks are just okay to other folks out here, I guess." He shrugged. Dian grunted, obviously not at all pleased with the bland answer, and began looking around again.

"Y'know, I ain't ever been in a proper town before. I mean, I have, but they usually throw me out pretty soon after I get there. 'S the strangest thing."

"I can't imagine why," Jayne deadpanned as he grabbed the door to Red's clinic, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He made his way inside, not bothering to hold the door for his odd acquaintance, and looked around the small building for Red. She was leaned over a patient—Flash, it looked like—stitching up a nasty-looking gash on the short man's arm. Flash looked up and caught his eye, then grinned and waved with his non-injured arm.

"Hey buddy! Long time no see, right?" Red looked up to see who her patient was addressing, and her face broke into a smile at the sight of him.

"That's right, long time no see, Hot Shot. Where've you been hiding all this time?" She smiled sweetly at him, then clipped the last of the stitching thread and wiped her hands on the front of her jumpsuit. Flash thanked her and trotted out of the building, saying something about having a cool new scar to show to Bittercup. Red finished cleaning her hands with a rag and turned to her newest guest, "Not getting into too much trouble, I hope?"

"Trouble? _Me?_ Oh, perish the thought!" Jayne gave the lady doctor a charming smile, before letting her wrap her arms around his neck in a warm, friendly hug. He returned the hug with gusto, missing the comforting feel of her motherly aura. Red was one of his favorite people in the wasteland, truth be told. She was strong, brave, fair, smart—exactly the type of person he liked being around. She pulled away and studied him for a moment, then prodded a sensitive area on his torso. "Ow! Jeez, Red!" He flinched away from the pain and gasped.

"'Jeez' nothing, mister, you look worse than a Ghoul with a sunburn," She gave him a disapproving look and shook her head. "Been out making friends with Deathclaws again, I suppose?"

"Ha, that's closer to the truth than you might think." Jayne laughed wearily and lowered himself into a chair as his head swam. "Think you might be able to patch me up?" Red chuckled and got out her medical kit, then took a small syringe from the box and tapped it to test the flow.

"For you, kid, anything. You know that." Careful not to cause him any further pain, she rubbed an area on his arm with a small cloth before injecting the fluid swiftly and efficiently. Jayne bit his lip. The prick of pain was quickly followed by a rush of healing coolness that spread throughout his body, calming nerve endings and dulling the pain. Broken bits mended silently, and in a few seconds Jayne felt back on top of his game again. Red smiled warmly as she watched his expression relax. "And as usual, free of charge for the returning hero," She winked and nudged him playfully.

"Hero?" Dian, who'd been silently observing the interaction and picking at his fingernails, piped up suddenly from behind them. Red whirled and took a step back, startled at the sudden appearance of the man, and tripped rather ungracefully into Jayne. Jayne caught the woman easily and helped right her again.

"Sorry Red, should have mentioned I brought baggage," He thrust a thumb in Dian's direction. The man in question grinned and waved.

"No, no, that's alright. Just didn't see him come in," Red laughed nervously and eyed the slight man, her minor doctoral training kicking in at the very sight of him. Scrawny, jumpy, wild-eyed, flaky… he was obviously on something. And something good, by the looks of it.

"Yeah yeah, I'm a super ninja," Dian waved a hand dismissively," now what were you saying about Janey here being a hero?" He leaned close to the woman, eyes shining like a kid ready for story time. Red gave a hesitant look at her old friend and noted the scowl on his face, then turned back to smile at his curious new follower.

"Oh, yes. Jayne here is the reason I'm here talking to you right now. In fact, without him we would probably all be long dead, and Big Town would be just another burnt out ghost town," She smiled fondly at the red-head, who averted his eyes and flushed a little. "Of course," She continued, facing Dian again, "He'd never tell anyone who didn't already know. The man's as modest as a maiden and blushes just as easy." The good doctor laughed heartily and patted her friend on the back, then proceeded to relay the story of how Jayne saved her and Big Town from the Super Mutants so many years ago, with a bit of poetic flourish. Dian listened in awe to the tale, holding his breath as Red paused dramatically at intense parts of the story. When she'd finished the short narrative, Dian had big, fat bullfrog tears gathering in his eyes.

"Oh man, that's just beautiful. I never knew you were such…a good…person," He paused between silent sobs and threw his arms around the other man's neck.

"Wha- hey! Get the fuck off me!" Jayne growled and shoved him roughly away, his feathers having obviously been ruffled by the unapproved close contact. "Besides, anybody with a conscience would have done it. I was just the first guy to come along," He muttered, averting his eyes.

"Ha! If anyone else had come along first, they'd have cleaned us out and you know it." Red punched him playfully in the arm, then straightened her jumpsuit and looked around the small 'office'. "Well then, I have work to do. You guys are welcome to stay the night if you can find two open cots. Bittercup insists that since she had her baby she needs at least three cots for her and the little tyke, but you might be able to charm one out of her if you're nice enough. Whatever you do, make sure you come see me again before you head off, alright?" She pulled Jayne into another strong hug, then shooed him out the door, Dian trailing happily behind.

"Oh man, I like her," Dian said once the door had been shut behind them. "Think she'd taste good?"

Jayne leveled a stare at him, considering.

"…I really hope you're not that stupid. Because if you are, I might just have to kill you right here and now." His expression never changed, but the threat was real enough. Dian held up his hands in a surrender-pose, grinning.

"Hey man, just kidding! Didn't mean anything by it," Dian grinned nervously, not at all enjoying the hostile glint in the other man's green eyes. "So uh, we gonna hang here tonight?" The hasty change of subject was not lost on Jayne, but he let it slide. As long as Dian kept his hands to himself and his mouth in check, things ought to be alright for them here.

"Yeah. I'll go get us some cots and drag them out to the fire. You just…" He paused, looking Dian over with a scowl. "You just go sit down somewhere. Don't touch anything, don't talk to anyone, don't mess up, got it?"

"Sure thing boss," Dian chimed happily. "I'll just go chill by the fire then, don't be too long gone." He waved and moved energetically over to the nearest small fire in town, settled down, and sat smiling at nothing in particular.

Jayne returned soon after with two small, dirty mattresses in tow, and threw them to the ground beside the fire. He huffed and wiped at the sweat rolling down his face before plopping down on one of them.

"So..." Dian began casually, "Where are you from?"

Jayne considered responding in his usual, sarcastically uncaring tone, but decided instead to humor the man. What could it hurt, really? If all went according to plan he'd be at least ten miles out of town before the scrawny nuisance ever even woke up.

"I'm from a vault, actually. Vault 101. I was one of the first to leave, before the vault opened back up for trade and whatnot." He poked at the fire a bit, memories of his youth flashing just behind his eyes. "Me and my Pop caused a bit of commotion on the way out, haha." He glanced over at his companion, whose eyes seemed to gleam in childlike glee at his revelation. It was all at once unsettling and…kind of cute.

"You're really from one of those big fancy vaults? How cool! I heard those was real nice and cozy." He smiled and crossed his hands across his folded knees. "I'm from a tribe outta the Capitol myself. They burned somethin in my back and filed my teeth all sharp and threw me out for being a Wendigo, but I know they love me. Real deep down." Jayne, having no real response to that particular statement, let the conversation die. Of course Dian could not let that happen, though. Heaven forbid there be a moment of peace with that guy.

"So you mentioned your dad; where's he these days?" It was an innocent enough question, but Jayne wasn't in a particular mood to talk about his father with the strange man. He fluffed up the mattress a bit and rolled himself onto it, his back facing Dian (probably against his better judgment).

"Goodnight, Dian."

"Oh, jeez well fine. Note to self: don't mention the dad." Dian huffed and prodded the fire with a stick for a while before finally growing bored and laying out on his mattress.

"Hey Jayne?"

"What?"

"This mattress is lumpy."

"Get over it, I know you've slept on worse. Now go to sleep."

Jayne heard a muffled shuffling sound, then a low, crunching noise. He dismissed it quickly and tried to get comfortable.

"Hey Jayne?"

"What?"

"You want a finger?"

"No! Now go. To. Sleep." He heard the other man huff again, and some more muffled shuffling before silence.

"Hey Jaaayne?"

"For fuck's sake, what?"

"I'm sure glad I met you." You could practically hear the smile in the other man's voice.

"Yeah…good to know. Now please, get some sleep? We'll talk in the morning."

"Yeah okay. G'night."

Jayne waited, listening, until finally the breathing across the fire evened out, became a soft snore. _Good, _he thought, _I'll sleep for a few hours and leave before he's conscious. _It was a good, solid plan. Nothing better than a good, solid plan. And with said plan in mind, the not-so-lone wanderer drifted into an even sleep.


End file.
